The Black Dragon Prophesy
by Introjection
Summary: AU, (Divergent TV Universe & Elements of Film) - Dornkirk seeks to throw down the White Dragon and bring his Ideal Future back into focus. Equalising imbalances is the only way, and Zaibach receives a prophesied answer from the Mystic Moon of its own. Explores Zaibach as a place, its society and characters in more detail, casting Dilandau and his Dragonslayers in a key role.
1. Vicious Streak

Spitting out a mouthful of dirt and grass, her whole body shaking, she lifted herself up from the ground and onto her elbows. Water seeped inside her shoes, the cold urging her to stand despite her head swimming. Colours danced before her eyes.

_ I'm blind,_ she thought with a start, the cold night air catching in her throat. After almost a full minute, the colours began to fade, shapes replacing the gloom. Unfamiliar trees towered above, leaving just a jagged patch of night sky overhead. Everything was wet, glinting from rain. Light-headed and breathless, she scanned her surroundings.

_This definitely isn't Yates street. This is some kind of... Forest. A clearing. I don't - What just happened? Where the hell am I? _

Clouds roiled in the sky, separating to reveal a sea of stars. No brown city lights penetrated the horizon. No birds or insects called, the silence making the meadow look and feel almost like a picture. Her breathing seemed loud and overpowering in the quiet. _What do I do?_ Blood rushed in her ears as her heart began to pound in her chest. She stepped forward, the ground spongy beneath her feet. _I should... Uh... What did Girl Scouts tell me to do when lost in the woods? Find a river. Roads and towns are by rivers. If I can find a town I can call ho-_

A mechanical hiss cut the air somewhere in the distance, followed by a resonating crash. Birds and small animals erupted from the trees. Brambles snagged at her clothes and shoulderbag as she sprang forward, another impact shaking the ground out from beneath her feet.

"Ah!" she cried, thorns stabbing her back and legs. The tremor came again, louder this time.

_Whatever that is, it's fucking big, and it's coming!_

Gritting her teeth she tore free of the bush, darting along the treeline and into long grass. Under the starlight the ground was a smear of grey, shapes impossible to distinguish. Muddy soil gave way to water, which splashed up around her waist in the space of a few bounds. Wheeling to get out of the pond she caught sight of trees bending, parting under some colossal weight forcing its way through. Everything shuddered as it took another step.

"Stop _running!_" boomed an exasperated voice. Back on solid ground, she froze in her tracks. It had seemed to come from the broken trees.

"I've been waiting for you for _hours _and I can't be bothered with _chasing_ you _as well._ I'm supposed to bring you to Dornkirk alive. Don't move or I'll slice you apart anyway." As the tinny voice spoke, the foliage at the opposite end of the clearing seemed to ripple and fall away, revealing a gargantuan iron creature.

"I'm dreaming. This isn't happening," she breathed aloud, taking a shaky step back, her mind racing. As if in answer the mechanical creature squared its shoulders.

_Do I run? That thing looks like it has weapons. _Looking back over her shoulder at the trees, their trunks only yards away, but the distance may as well have been miles. She hesitated before lifting her hands in surrender. _If it shoots me I'll be cut down before I even get close to-_

A whistling sound pierced the air, making her jump. Suddenly immobile, she looked down. Instead of a hole growing through her belly like she expected, what looked like mercury wrapped around her middle and legs, spreading around her entire body. Struggling had no effect against the hardening material and soon she was locked tight, just her head and shoulders free. Her chest burned. Choking and gasping, her eyes began to run, no air coming to fill her lungs.

The metal crushing her chest melted away, reforming elsewhere. Sucking in a breath, she flopped over as much as her lumpy prison would allow, barely aware that she was being towed towards the hulking giant.

"_You're_ what all the fuss is about?" Jeered the voice, much closer this time. "A woman? What kind of woman shaves half her hair off?" Looking up through bleary eyes, she could just make out the general shape of a human face somewhere inside the mechanical suit. He sounded young.

"I don't-"

"Chesta, Gatti, return to my position," he barked, aiming his voice elsewhere. "Stratego, we have your Black Dragon, but I can't see what good you think it'll do. It didn't even fight. So boring," he lamented, then giggled - a hard, cruel sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

With a jerk and a shudder, they rose into the air. Two similar shapes exploded out of the trees some ways off, rising up to be silhouetted against -

_Two moons?_

Sure enough, two moons hung on the horizon.

_Flying suits that shoot metal, weird forests with trees taller than buildings, and two moons? I've lost it. Bri, you've officially gone mental. I'm not being carried off by a boy in a giant robot at all, I'm being carried off by the men in white jackets. This is just my mind trying to cope with it. God, what the hell was in my drink earlier!?_

Theground receded until it looked almost like a painting, though it was none she could recognise. Her ears crackling and the wind biting, she closed her eyes. Whatever powered the suit thrummed louder as they streaked upwards. What little light there was darkened even still, and she opened one eye just a slit to have a look.

_Oh. A city. A floating city. Yeah, okay. Fine,_ she thought. She would have shaken her head with disbelief if not for the struggle it took to breathe in the wind.

Colossal spires dotted with orange lights clung to a piece of floating land like some kind of jagged tick. Icy wind was replaced with a dry, oppressive heat as they entered an aperture in the bottom of the landmass. The blast of hot air felt wonderful at first after the relentless cold and as they ascended a tunnel upwards, she felt she could open her eyes at last. A hangar crowded with similar mechanised suits, coloured blue, spread out before them. Looking down at the red surface of her captor's machine as its arm oustretched to place her on the platform, she caught a glimpse of the metal around her liquify, snaking back up into the arm of the thing.

The hangar was mostly empty. Catwalks suspended high above had the occasional worker moving through them, but otherwise it was a great open space that extended far above and below where she stood. What looked almost like a toll booth or checkpoint sat unmanned in the far wall.

_What is this, reception? Man, whatever was in my drink is amazing... _But even as she joked to herself, an uncomfortable feeling clenched at her gut. _... This really doesn't feel like a dream. It doesn't even look like a dream. It's all I can think of to explain what's happening, but... Dammit, people don't just show up on another planet. That doesn't happen. Cities don't fly. There aren't two moons. I... _Touching her hand to the railing behind her, she gave it a firm squeeze. It felt cool, solid... _Physical. _Swallowing with nervousness she realised her throat felt like paper, and began examining the platform further in an effort to distract herself.

A tall man wrapped in a cloak stood some metres off, standing so still that at first she guessed him to be a statue. To her surprise he stepped forward, looking as if he were about to speak. His eyes darted to the side however, and following his gaze she saw the boy who flew the machine approaching. The contrast between them was stark. With a black cape slung over his shoulder, short and messy blue hair standing on end and small gold hoops hanging from his ears, he looked out of place in the hangar. _He doesn't really look like a soldier like this guy_, she thought, looking back at the boy, whose stare and the gleam of his red armour reminded her of a cobra she had seen coiled up at the zoo once.

"Move," he snapped, gesturing towards the doorway. Her eyes looked from him to the taller man, who remained silent. "Don't you understand me? I said, _move._ I've been waiting in a forest all night for you to show up and I want to get to where the fighting is. Move it."

"Dilandau," said the tall man. "I will take it from here."

"I want to bring her to Dornkirk," he replied, turning his back to him. "You-"

"Dilandau," he repeated. The boy flushed with rage. As he spoke - if one could call screaming 'speaking,' - she realised he had not been conversing in English. Yet, the words were as clear as if she'd spoken the language all her life. She furrowed her brow, puzzled.

_I hadn't even noticed before. Something about this language is -_

"Are you listening!?" Dilandau barked. "I asked you if you understood me."

"I understand you," she replied, irritated, her fear beginning to give way into anger. "Look, I don't know where I am or what's going on, so if you could just tell-"

"I didn't ask you to talk," he snapped, his eyes flashing. She closed her mouth. "I asked you if you understood me. What's your name?"

She stared at him, incredulous. _What the fuck is this guy's problem?_ He started towards her, making as if to push her.

"Hey, jackass, get away from me!" she roared, stepping back. It was enough to give him pause and he backed off. "I don't know who you are, or where I am, or why I'm here, and I don't want any fucking trouble, okay?" She blustered, shaking. "Look, I was walking home, and then I tripped, and there was a bright light, and then I was stood in some woods in God knows where and then _you_ -" she snarled, jabbing an accusing finger at him, "- _You_ nearly killed me with your stupid robot, so don't touch me. Okay? Just don't touch me."

He snorted, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes as he looked away, but said nothing.

"My name is Brielle. Uh, Brielle Lyons," she added, looking towards the other man, flustered.

"Brielle," he said, just as calm as if the outburst had never occurred. "I am Folken. Follow me. I will show you to the place where you will stay," he explained, turning towards the door.

"Is there some reason she should not be brought before Dornkirk immediately? You told me it was urgent, Stratego," grumbled Dilandau. Refusing to even look at her now, he uncrossed his arms and fell in at Folken's side.

"Other matters are now a priority. When the time comes, you will be present. Go and gather your men. Send one to me."

Muttering what sounded like curses under his breath, Dilandau turned on his heel and headed down the long corridor. As he turned the corner, most of her tension left with him and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Come," said Folken. She obeyed.

_I don't really feel like questioning this guy too much right now. He says we're going to somewhere I can stay, so I'll just... try to make sense of my situation when I can actually think._

Dark stone blocks formed the walls around them. Every few feet, a mounted torch burned blue. Even despite their countless numbers, their flickering light did not stop the shadows from filling every corner and swallowing every form. The sounds of growling boilers and metalworks emanating from afar carried with them occasional blasts of warm air that grew infrequent as they walked. The halls opened up into a room with ancient looking weight-driven elevators. As Folken closed a gilded gate with a rattle behind them, she shuddered. The cold kept creeping in as they travelled further from the bottom of the floating city.

She could not tell for certain how long they had been walking, only that her feet ached and she felt stiff all over. _I really hope we get wherever we're going soon. It's got to have been around two hours now, surely? He's been quiet this whole way,_ she thought, looking up at the back of his head as they waited at what looked to be a train station. The place looked sad somehow, worn away like a gravestone, as if centuries of rainfall had taken away all its edges. _But we're indoors? This place must be very old._

"Excuse me," she said, coughing into her hand. _God, this is awkward._ "Folken? What is this place?"

"You are in City Three of the Zaibach Empire."

"Okay. Right. So, there are... Two moons? Here on...?"

"Gaea," he replied, looking towards the shadowy tunnel.

"Do you know how I got here?" she asked. He seemed to hesitate before answering,

"No."

Wind whistled from somewhere deep in the tunnel, a fanfare to the empty carriage that came gliding to a stop at the platform. Brielle followed him onto the car, smiling with relief despite herself. Sitting down after so long felt so good, even the sting from the brambles' cuts subsided. With a lurch, they entered the darkness of the tunnel. What reminded her of Christmas lights flickered to life on the roof, providing dim illumination.

Leaning forward, she closed her eyes, allowing the rythmic clicks of the track to fill her head. A curious feeling settled over her, like Folken had not been silent this whole time so much as he had just been listening.

"Folken?" she asked. The silence between them did not change. "Who's the Dornkirk person that Dylan wants me to see?"

"Dornkirk is the Emperor of Zaibach. Dilandau is a Commander. Mistaking his name in front of him would not be wise."

"Yeah... I'll remember," she mumbled. "So... I assume I'm not going home any time soon. Am I a prisoner? Are we headed to the jail or something?"

"We are not headed to the jails. There is an area of vacant units near the barracks that will serve as temporary housing. You will not be unduly confined."

"Barracks? So far away from the robots?" she asked.

"Guymelefs," he said, correcting her after a brief pause. Seeming to choose his words carefully, he continued, "There are more direct routes to the hangars, but at this juncture you are not permitted to know them."

"At least you're honest," she mumbled. Sensing the carriage slowing, she turned to look out the windows. Light flooded in as the tunnel fell behind them, a platform identical to the one before pulling up into view. Seeing Folken stand, she got to her feet again.

The empty quarters Folken mentioned were not far from the strange tram. Though they stood in a gargantuan hall filled with pillars of stone and cobble, the living quarters were stacked on top of one another three or four identical units high. Thin metal stairs and catwalks spanned along each level for about a mile, at the end of which stood an imposing building that she could only guess was the Barracks. They came to a stop in front of the door at the end of the row.

"This it?" she asked. Sliding her bag from her shoulder she narrowed her eyes and gazed forward. Rubbing at her aching muscle she stepped forward to peer through the small, dark window by the door. Nothing was visible through the grimy glass.

"Wait," he said.

"It isn't as if I'm going anywhere," she grumbled, fed up. "If I'm going to be here and play along, I just want to lie down and try to digest all this weirdness."

"Sir?" called a voice. A young man in blue armour rounded the corner, almost running into her. "Oh! Ah, apologies," he sputtered before turning and throwing a salute, looking up at Folken who nodded. "I apologise for my tardiness, Stratego sir. A message came for the Commander." As he spoke, Brielle noticed what looked like a raising welt on his cheek. Aside from that, not a single sandy blonde hair was out of place. His armour looked similar to Dilandau's, save for the colour and a lack of spikes on his pauldrons. He must have felt both Brielle and Folken's stares on his cheek, for he coughed into his hand and shifted his weight. "Your orders, sir?" he added.

"Emperor Dornkirk requires your duty as a guard here for the night. Someone will be sent to relieve you in the morning. Attend to her needs and ensure she does not leave the premises," he replied. Without further word, Folken turned and left.

"Um, well, goodbye," she said, attempting to mask her confusion by reaching for the doorhandle. He paused.

"Good night, Brielle."

Turning the doorhandle she stepped inside, the young man in blue following close behind. The space was small, bare, and depressing. _This feels more like a rabbit hutch than a living space,_ she thought, looking at the room to the right that was just managing to contain a simple bed and small table. _Still, the quiet will be nice after the night I've had._ The main room had just enough floor for a miniscule wood oven, a countertop, some unremarkable shelving units, a small table and two chairs. A third door was tucked away in the far wall, behind which she assumed was a water closet. Light came in from two grubby windows in the front and bedroom, the orange gas-lamp light from outside illuminating several old wooden buckets and some kindling in the corner. The air smelled stale.

"I guess no one's lived here for a while?" she wondered aloud, examining the fat-bellied stove and its pipes that ran through a stone wall. Despite being candle lit, the only friendly thing about the room was an old brass kettle, sat atop the stove. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Noticing the boy standing stiff as a board in the entranceway, she sighed, replacing it before saying, "You don't need to worry. I'm not going to be making any escape attempts. I'm going to sleep, I think. You, um. What's your name?"

"Gatti. Gatti Rochirion."

"Brielle Lyons."

"Um, we prepared this apartment for you earlier, and there should be some clothes and linens in the bedroom I think. I'll let you be as much as I can," he explained, giving her as wide a berth as possible as she walked by. "But, um, I think - well, we all expected you'd be a man."

"Right," she replied with a tired laugh.

The bedroom door was just a few simple slats of wood, and could not close properly. Gatti took up residence outside it, but looked as if he were trying to give her as much space as he could whilst keeping his station, his back to her. Only too glad to peel off her torn, damp and muddy clothing, she was relieved to find that there were some clothes folded atop the pillow. Pulling plain cloth slacks over her legs and slipping on the white linen undershirt provided, she sat back on the bed with a creak. Running her hand over the shaved parts of her head and through her scruffy mohawk, she sighed.

"Hey, Gatti, did you say?"

"Yes?" he said from beyond the doorway, having moved out of sight, she assumed to afford her privacy.

"I can call you just Gatti, right?"

"Yes. Do you need something?"

"Well... You said your people had prepared this room for me earlier, right? This has all happened so fast. Your Commander said in the forest that he'd been waiting for me." She paused, shaking her head. "I don't... I don't get all this."

"Uh..." he began, his armour clicking against the wall as he shifted his weight. "So, you really are from the Mystic Moon," he muttered, seemingly to himself.

"Mystic Moon?"

"The big blue moon in the sky."

"Oh. Earth."

"Er, anyway, I saw you appear inside lightning. I don't really know how to explain it, but Emperor Dornkirk has known of your coming for a long time. He told us when and where to wait for you. It's just like the legends," he explained, his tone reverential, breathless. "I had thought it might be some kind of illusion, but it's true. There's supposed to be another girl here somewhere, also from the Mystic Moon."

"This is really just creating more questions than it's answering," she groaned, dull pain now throbbing behind her eyes. "You're telling me I was, like... Prophesied to arrive here? I'm just some woman, I'm hardly a prophet. I don't _know_ anything. I'm not about to invent amazing new things, I'm not a genius or a doctor... I'm just some asshole who works in a piercing studio."

"A what?"

"A piercing studio. You know, like this ring in my lip. I pierce people's ears and tongues and stuff," she grumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "And I design tattoos. If you want a sleeve designing or an eyebrow ring, I'm your girl - But I don't know what some _Emperor_ might want with me."

"The Great Leader has never led our people wrong," he said, sounding hurt. "What he asks for doesn't always immediately make sense, but he is always right in the end."

"Okay. I don't know anything about this place or your people and I shouldn't make assumptions. Maybe he _is_ right," she said, scratching at the back of her head. "He didn't say anything else about this prophecy to you, did he?"

"No, Emperor Dornkirk sees very few people. He has audiences with Commander Albatou and Stratego Fanel regularly, though. The Commander doesn't tell us more than we need to know."

"Commander Albatou, eh? That that Dilandau guy in red?"

"Yes."

"Is he always such- er, is he always _like that_? So intense?" she asked, catching herself. Gatti was quiet for a moment.

"I am honoured to serve under his command and in the Dragonslayers."

"Right. I understand." The welt on his cheek came to mind, and she grimaced before blowing out the candle on the little night-table. "Well... You seem alright Gatti, but I don't want to deal with him if I don't have to," she said through a yawn. Laying back onto the pillow, the darkness of sleep came much easier than she expected.


	2. Black Black Heart

Dilandau raised his arms, shoving his way through a cluster of off-duty guards chattering in the antechamber. Dawn had broken, its golden light stinging his tired eyes as he strode past them. _Lazy louts,_ he thought, squaring his shoulders. _They're lucky I don't have the time to deal with them. Maybe later._

This part of the tower was built to allow as much sunlight through as possible, and to another might have seemed cheerful. To Dilandau however, the rows of columns, mirrors, gardens and circular levels on the outside of Dornkirk's tower were too bright during the day and painful to his sensitive eyes. Finding himself squinting, he was relieved to step inside the tower proper where the light was more manageable. Folken stood at the base of the stairs, waiting as he always did on these occasions.

"Up so early after traipsing about with the Mystic Moon arrival all night?" he jeered at Folken, brushing past him to take the lead up the first of several sets of winding stairs. "Why isn't she here?" he wondered aloud, then paused. Turning back to glare down at him, he snapped, "You presented her to Dornkirk without _me_?"

"No," he replied. "The Emperor requested our presence alone."

_Good,_ he continued to himself. _I don't want you stealing my glory when all you did was sit in your room and listen to your cats sing while I was out in the forest getting eaten by bugs all night. _Though he only asked, "We're invited alone? Is this about the White Dragon?"

"I know as much as you," Folken responded, continuing to climb the steps.

"You're lying. You always know more than what you tell me."

"It is my office to know things."

Though fit, both found themselves needing to take a moment at the top of the stairs to catch their breath, a task made easy by the balcony providing fresh air. Looking away to hide his flushing from exertion, he lifted his arms as if stretching out of boredom. Confident in his display of superiority, Dilandau grabbed the brass handle to the massive oaken door, pulling it open with a loud creak. Light spilled into a great circular room, in the centre of which stood a tree of screens, the largest turning on with a buzz. At the sight of the ancient man's blurry image on screen, he rushed to the back of the room and dropped to one knee.

"Folken," croaked Dornkirk. "My future is changing. Our Ideal Future is coming back into view." As the Emperor spoke, Dilandau held his breath a moment, chancing a glance up at the screen. The old man's image shuddered, static creeping into the image. "I have seen the Black Dragon surrounded by swords, Folken," he rasped. "Dragon-killing swords stand before it!"

"Yes, Emperor. It will be done," Folken replied. He hesitated for a second before adding, "The Black Dragon will be placed with the Dragonslayers immediately."

Dilandau, still on his knees, could not help but ball his free hand into a fist, the effort of staying silent making him shake with indignant fury. It took all his nerve not to sputter in protest, his stomach turning as if he had swallowed a ball of ice._ With my Slayers?_ he raged. _I am not a babysitter! I can't be expected to just take this on. I have things to do! A White Dragon to kill! _

"I have seen..." murmured the Emperor, trailing off. "Its bones beneath rock... Go now. Go now!" The screen died. Dilandau got to his feet, refusing to meet Folken's gaze and staring at the sliver of light at the bottom of the door instead.

"I can't believe this," he snarled.

"It is Emperor Dornkirk's wish."

"Do you think I'm stupid? I _heard. _I will do as the Emperor commands, but I don't have to like it!" His voice rose almost to a shriek. Folken's only response was to fold his arms inside his cloak and wait, as if knowing more words were on the way. _You smug bastard, one day I'm going to rip out your eyeballs! _Glowering, he turned on his heel and stormed to the door, wrenching it open.

"She is in -"

"I know where she is!" he barked, wheeling back around.

"- The residential park at the moment. I had her escorted there, as it is nearby and I had imagined that our business here would be concluded shortly."

"You knew about this, didn't you? You _knew_ I was going to get saddled with this!"

"It is my office to know things," he replied, the faintest note of amusement in his voice making Dilandau grind his teeth as he continued, conceding, "I had prepared for several possibilities, however."

Electing not to reply he started down the long, winding stairs, worries forming with each step. _Surrounded by swords...? If she's the object of a prophesy she'll surely be worth the risk... But untrained hands will wreck an Alseides in the blink of an eye. I can't just take her out with us. She'll get us all killed. Still... _ Before long the door leading outside loomed before him and he paused, allowing himself a moment to prepare for the blazing sunlight outside. _If the Emperor wants this to happen, then I will make it happen._

Calling the small green field on the outskirts of the tower's gardens a 'park' was such an exaggeration that years ago when he had first heard it referred to as such, he thought it was a joke. A copse of about five scraggly trees huddled near a mound of planted violets. Behind these lay a large rock, protecting the sad excuse for a garden from the ripping wind, always cold at such high altitudes. Today however the breezes were gentle, and even though he needed to squint to make out the forms on one of the only three benches, he could identify the silhouettes of the newcomer and one of his men, their backs to him. Their voices carried in such a small space.

"- so few in this part of the city because only the military and the most loyal citizens are allowed to live this close to the Emperor. It's a privilege to live here," Gatti was explaining, standing next to the bench and looking down, towards the dark city sprawling out before them. He looked relaxed, his guard down. _A mistake,_ Dilandau thought to himself as he drew closer. The woman sat on the far end of the bench, one leg crossed over the other, clutching some kind of hooded garment close to her body. Her pants - _Pants! What kind of lady wears pants? -_ were of a weird cut he had never seen before, much less on a woman, and they had rips in the legs. _How improper._ Slipping the hood off her head, that short-cropped stripe of hair was visible. _Barbaric. _She must have caught sight of him somehow for she turned to face him, falling silent. Gatti snapped to attention, throwing a smart salute that he ignored. A hard look in her eyes told him that she was sizing him up as well. _Good. Boorish as you are, you don't look like you'll snap in half at the slightest touch though, so I'll give you that._

"Gatti, we are returning to the Barracks," he announced. Gatti's hesitation would be imperceptible to anyone else, and Dilandau shot him a venomous look. "_Now_."

"At once, Sir," he muttered, already at his side. "The Stratego ordered me to escort Brielle, I cannot lea-"

"I said, _we_ are returning to the Barracks. Don't make me repeat myself. I _hate_ repeating myself." Deciding to be polite, he quelled the instinct to whack Gatti across the face for his insolence.

"Good morning," she said, picking herself up off the bench. Detecting a note of sarcasm in her voice, he glowered at her as he replied,

"And to you."

Brielle and Gatti's being quiet on the transport back to the barracks was at first a welcome relief,but as they drew closer, anxiety began twisting in his stomach once again. Leaning forward on his knees, he studied her for a moment as she looked out the window, his conviction wavering. _I still can't believe this. Can she even be trusted? I'm supposed to just give her a sword and I barely know her name! It's offensive. It's stupid. 'Black Dragon' or not, my men are good as they are._ Giving an audible sigh he straightened up, crossing his arms and joining her in watching the dank, stony scenery go by. _It's no use complaining, is it? She's one of mine, now. The Emperor always knows something we don't. _

Shifting his focus to Gatti, the memory of his arrival just last year came to mind. _Out of the group, he was the only one who could hold a sword properly, and not even well at that. He turned out alright, _he thought even as their gazes met and he narrowed his eyes, making him look away. Still, the thought of his rapid improvement was comforting. _I won't have much time to get her up and running with the rest of them, though. That pissant Van could break cover at any minute. She'd better start tomorrow, doing drills._

"Have you had some bad news?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts. It took a moment to register that the question was being directed at him. "I'm just making conversation," she explained, crossing her legs. "You look like someone kicked your dog."

"Do you have any experience in combat?" he asked, ignoring her inquiry.

"That's... an odd question. I did some karate when I was a kid, and I've had a couple scraps on the schoolyard I guess, but nothing I'd call _combat experience_," she said with nervous laughter before asking, "why?"

"Mmm." He grunted in response.

"Uh, okay... Right, so... Seeing as I guess I live here, now, and I seem to be involved in whatever's going on, I thought maybe I should get to know-"

"You thought what, that we could all just hold hands and be _friends?_" he snapped. Brielle looked taken aback as he continued, "we're at war, in case Gatti here hasn't done a good enough job explaining that to you already."

"I was going to say, '_what the situation is,_' before you interrupted, but yeah, you know, keep yelling at me."

"You _petulant little_ -"

"_Brat?_" She hissed, finished his sentence for him, eyes flashing. "Yeah, don't worry," she continued, "we at least seem to think alike." Her shoulders sank as the anger left her - or perhaps she just muzzled it. Lifting her hand in a signal of concession she sighed, "I don't want to fight you. I just want to know what's going on. We don't have to be friends. In fact, it would be great if we could just keep to ourselves in future as much as we can."

"Hmph," he grunted. "We'll see."

"I haven't eaten since I got here. Will there be some kind of food?"

"That's not my concern," was his terse reply. _Wait. Yes it is. _"I'll... you'll get something."

"... Thank you." She looked suspicious.

The carriage screeched along the rails. Gloom settled in, and realising now he was able to stop squinting, relief washed over him at the understanding that they were now underground again. At the first tremors of the car coming to a stop in the dark barracks station, he was already on his feet. _Finally._

All three sets of footfalls echoing in the long, torch-lit hall, he paused in front of the Armoury, causing Gatti to nearly step into him. Shooting him a glare over his pauldron he ordered, "Go in there and get her a uniform."

"S-Sir!" Jumping to obey, Gatti then slipped past him into the room, disappearing into the many rows of racks and stacked equipment.

"I'll need her for sizing, Sir!" he called from somewhere amongst the shuffling of leather and clink of metal against metal.

"Go," he said with the slightest nod towards the doorway. Snapping out of some kind of reverie, she protested,

"A uniform? You can't be serious - I'm not a soldier. I don't need one."

"You are now, and you do," he answered, refusing to deign to look at her.

"What? No. This is ridiculous, I don't know how to fight!"

"You will _learn,_" he snarled, "or you will die trying. Get in there and get fitted before you make me angry. Stop complaining. I don't have time for it."

"Putting _me_ in the army? Holy hell, who the fuck is in charge here?" she muttered, moving to step past him. His arm shot up, pinning her shoulder against the doorjamb before she had the time to blink. The urge to slap her felt almost overpowering, gnawing at him, but his fingers clamped down instead.

"_I_ am in charge, and you'll refer to me as 'Commander' or 'Sir,'" he snapped, his eyes boring into hers. When her own narrowed in response, refusing to quail under his gaze, rage welled up inside his gut.

"Let go of me."

"Gatti, get over here," he growled.

Seeing her falter, fear peeking through the cracks in her resolve, a smile curled at the corners of his lips. _I know just how to get to you._ As Gatti approached, he let go of her shoulder, striking him across the face with an open hand instead. The crack of his leather-clad palm against flesh was satisfying as ever, and the stifled whimper it elicited music to his ears. She gasped.

"Now get in there and get fitted."

"_Fuck you, you_-"

Starting towards Gatti a second time, she changed her curse mid-word as he raised his arm.

"Stop!" she cried. He smirked.

_I win._

"Okay, okay," she said, choking on the words, holding her hands up. "Okay, please don't hit him, I'll do what you say. I'm going."

"'_I'm going_,' what?" he asked, though it was more statement than question.

"Sir," she replied, and swallowed. "I'll go get fitted, Sir."

"That's better," he replied, his voice dripping with condescending sweetness as he looked on. She stared at Gatti's reddening cheek, whispering something apologetic-sounding to him as they moved to the pile of armour parts. _Much better._


End file.
